Why should
or would
or could authority of competing violent colonizing pasts
outweigh responsibility for our cooperative co-arising futures?

People with disabling histories
seem to be more honest,
transparent,
to speak thirsty truth
to dis-integrity of egocentric abilities
practiced to disempower others,
stalking chronic vulnerability to WinLose ZeroSum enculturation.

Sometimes candid integrity,
honesty,
if not dismissed as pie in sky mysticism,
ignored as a not fully developed fool’s errand,
denies BusinessAsUsual WinLose ecopolitical camouflage,

I have a youngest son named D,
improvising three for four
communicating RightBrain dominant
rhythmic looping sound vocations,
invocations
vacations
easier on my WiseElder
matriarchal years
counted in and by and with
AnimaMundi’s
robust
Plan D.

My son
who cannot walk
nor speak his name
talks vociferously forth and with
and adding as this morning breeze
together part of Her embrace,
playful tickles
across his advocating happy Yanging face
teaching out and taking in, as possible
what and whom is impossible
for any of us to see,
whether blind as he
or sighted as we
might actually hope to be.

D is an avid scooting son
toward virgin forest greetings,
able to smell and feel morning seasons and rhythms
of days and night,
dark and persuasively gusty bright
flow of solar and lunar breezes
across our democratic EarthBound skins,
nurturing solidarity
older than concrete avenues toward cities
of overwhelming unforesting,
unraveling
tribes producing what once was nutrition,
good food more than fake food,
healthy love of gusty bright mornings
over toxic repressed-yin darks,
nightmares of climate acclimation
to separating multi-sensory linguistic pathologies.

D’s life is liturgy of love
blemished only by occasional aversions to entrapment
and suffering alone
when we might become possible
to produce healthier webs of cooperative nurture
together,
Dad and D
as We.